Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [35]
Data and McAdams took their positions in the center of the floor, both very erect and formal, Data’s arm around McAdams’s waist, her hand on his shoulder, their other hands lightly clasped. When Ubango saw the dancers were in position, she launched into a piece Picard instantly recognized as Chopin’s Waltz No. 1 in E-Flat.
Data and McAdams threw themselves into the dance with passion, precision and obvious pleasure. Their footwork, especially considering the relatively tiny space they had to work in, was astonishing, and the turns and dips were so carefully synchronized with the beats of the waltz, it was not clear whether the music was leading the dancers or the dancers were helping Ubango to keep time. It was a breathtaking display of virtuosity.
As the dancers spun ‘round and ‘round the floor, Picard realized it was the first time he had seen Data dance since Miles and Keiko O’Brien’s wedding. He remembered well the odd, forced rictus Data had worn during his dance with Keiko, a sharp contrast to the warm, genuine smile he had tonight, one obviously meant for only one person. And that person, Picard noted, was smiling back at Data in exactly the same manner.
Waltz No. 1 ended, but Ubango immediately slipped into something by Brahms. Data looked ready to shift tempo immediately, but McAdams, flushed, had to pause, catch her breath and sip a glass of water before she could go on. But as soon as she was done, McAdams took Data’s hand again and they launched themselves back out onto the floor. Picard thought he heard a smattering of applause from the small crowd, and turned to make a comment to Riker and Troi, but then saw that his first officer wore a resigned expression. Then, as Picard watched, Troi reached up and patted Riker’s hand, and Riker took her hand in his and squeezed it.
Picard turned to look at Sam and almost said, “Interesting enough for you?” but stopped when he saw the wistful smile on the bartender’s face, almost like he was remembering another day, another dance, and so Picard held his tongue and drank his wine.
And the music played on.
And the dancers danced.
Geordi La Forge’s combadge beeped stridently, rousing him from a sound sleep. Lifting the badge from his nightstand, he activated the chronochip in his left implant and checked the time: 0045. Why would anyone be calling him at this hour when the ship was in orbit and the main engines in standby mode? But, wait, no … if there was an emergency in Main Engineering, the ship’s computer would have alerted him. Unless the problem was with the computer …
He tapped the badge. “La Forge here,” he said hoarsely, sitting up. “What’s the problem?”
“Geordi? I am sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Data?”
“Yes,” Data said. “It is I. I apologize for the lateness of this call, but there was something I wanted to ask you.”
“What is it, Data? Something wrong with the main computer?”
“No, Geordi. The computer is fine. Ship’s status is optimum. The question I have for you is of a personal nature.”
Geordi sagged back against his pillow. “Oh,” he said. “All right. This wasn’t something that could wait until morning?”
“I am afraid not, Geordi.”
“All right,” Geordi sighed. “Go ahead.”
Data inhaled deeply, then began: “Is it appropriate to call a woman the morning after you have dined together and gone dancing to ask her if she would like to have breakfast together?”
Geordi sighed, then considered the question. “Are we talking about Lieutenant McAdams?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” Geordi replied, “I think you should ask yourself a different question first: Do you want to get involved in a personal relationship with someone you work with?”
Data replied, “I considered this issue and decided that if Commander Riker and Counselor Troi and the captain and Dr. Crusher can